


Liminal Space

by shinetheway



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crying, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Outdoor Sex, Stanley Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinetheway/pseuds/shinetheway
Summary: “Look on every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.”― Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are DeadSid, Geno, and three times they were in a doorway.





	Liminal Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withershins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withershins/gifts).



> For withershins, who is one of my favorite writers in the fandom. Your fics have brought me so much enjoyment, and I really hope you like this! .

**August**

Sid was smoothing down the front of his shirt for the fourteenth time when Geno came into the kitchen, and Geno fought to hide his grin. "Mama and Papa just call, say they almost here," he said, deciding that discretion was safer than valor. Pointing out Sid's nervousness wouldn't relax him, and Geno liked his head attached to his body.

This wasn't the first time Sid had met his parents, of course--not even close. But it was the first time since Geno had finally fumbled out the news about the two of them together. He'd done it after his Cup day party, late at night in Moscow with the beautiful summer night sky glowing with halogen and neon, and the faint sounds of Russia-city-people-home floating on the breeze. 

They'd stared at him, and he'd stared at his feet, the glint of the Cup in the corner of his eye, and waited. He felt like he might be choking, his throat tight. 

"I see," his mother said finally. 

Geno said nothing. His father said nothing, but Geno could hear his breathing. 

"Zhenechka," his mother said, terribly gently, and he felt himself tensing all over. 

He felt his a hand on his shoulder and twitched in surprise before he could stop himself. Then he was pulled into a hug, his father's arms tight. He buried his face in his father's shoulder and the tight feeling in his throat started to ease. He could feel himself shaking a little.

"Ничего," his mother said, a little unsteadily, and he felt her hug him as well. "You're my son," she told him. "You will always be my son. Everything else is nothing."

"Sidney is a good boy," his father said. "A nice boy."

And now they were coming to dinner, their first time seeing Sid after the short, intense summer. If Geno was nervous, Sid was...well. Geno had talked him out of making a full Russian meal, but Sid had insisted that they do something fancier than steak, so they'd compromised on Spanish.

Sid tugged at his cuffs one last time, then turned to the stove, giving the paella a totally unnecessary stir. Geno leaned up against his back and looked over his shoulder, and Sid leaned back a little. They didn't speak, but Sid gave Geno a little shake with his shoulders, and Geno hummed and kissed his neck. 

The doorbell rang, and Geno peeled off. "Smell good," he said as he headed for the front door. "Parents like, you good cook."

"I hope so," Sid said, following Geno to the foyer. "I still don't know if the rice is the right texture, and I couldn't get that sausage you suggested from the deli--"

"It's fine," Geno said firmly, "stop worry." He cut off any further attempt at dithering by opening the door. His mama and papa were on the porch and he stepped out to greet them. 

Hugs were handed out all around, he kissed his mama's cheek, and behind him Sid cleared his throat. "Здороваться," he said carefully, with maybe the worst accent Geno had ever heard in his life. Geno tried to smother his bark of laughter but wasn't very successful, and his mama hit him on the arm. 

"Sidney," his mama said instead, stepping forward and taking his arms, leaning up to kiss his cheek before giving him a firm, tight hug. "Hello, Sidney."

"Добро пожаловать," Sid said, appallingly but earnestly, and Geno bit his lip, trying desperately to keep a straight face. 

Geno's papa gave Sid an approving look, then stepped forward for his own hug and Geno felt something he hadn't even known was tense relax at the sight. 

**February**

The floodlights outside went off, triggered by the motion detector, and Geno frowned and detoured from his path upstairs to the front door. It was snowing and stupid-cold outside, and it was almost midnight. 

He'd barely stepped outside when he saw Flower, stopped on the last step before the porch. He was blinking hard, smile looking a little weak in the wash of the bright lights.

It was late, and they had an early flight the next day. Geno was too tired to think--he frowned in confusion, and Flower sighed and stepped forward. "Is Sid around?"

Geno stepped back. "He's upstairs," he said, and Flower followed him in. He toed off his slushy shoes, and then just looked at his feet while Geno forced himself not stare. He was pretty sure that Flower's eyes were red. He left Flower to stand in the foyer and contemplate his socks, and took the stairs two at a time. 

Sid was half-asleep when Geno came in, but he was already starting to sit up. "I heard the door," he said in confusion, and Geno nodded.

"Flower, he downstairs. Something wrong, maybe."

Sid immediately threw back the covers and started looking for his slippers, and Geno couldn't help it. "You think this…" 

"I don't know," Sid said. "Maybe. Maybe he…I don't know."

Geno let Sid go downstairs on his own, and sat down on the bed. 

Downstairs, he heard Sid say "You said yes." 

"It's for the best," Flower said, and he sounded shaky and miserable. "For the team." 

"Fuck the team," Sid said harshly. "Fuck the team, seriously--"

"It's for the best for me too," Flower said, and he sounded exhausted. "There's no place for me here anymore. You know it. I know it--"

Geno couldn't listen to any more. He stood and crossed the room, closed the door gently and stepped back. He wiped a hand over his face and tried to breathe past the hot angry knot in his chest. His face was wet.

He went to sleep after a while. Sid didn't come upstairs the whole night, and when he woke up to Sid's alarm he realized he hadn't even plugged his phone in. 

Downstairs Sid was stretched out on the couch, sleeping soundly, and Flower was texting from a chair. "Not sleep?" Geno murmured, and Flower shrugged. 

"I'll be okay," he said, and looked up from his phone. "Sid didn't take it well."

"When you going?" Geno made himself ask, already desperately hating whatever answer he got.

Flower, bless him, didn't pretend not to understand. "After the season is over," he said, and shrugged. "However long that is."

Geno felt himself starting to choke up again and cleared his throat. He suddenly couldn't get an image out of his head, a skinny boy with big teeth and a bigger smile barely older than he was, shaking his hand and welcoming him to Pittsburgh. 

"No trade," Flower continued. "I only waived it for the one team, so. I stay a Penguin for one last season."

Geno nodded, and said quietly, "We gonna miss you." Rather than look at Flower, he shook Sid slightly. 

Sid came awake with a start and immediately twisted his head to look at Flower. He opened his mouth and croaked something Geno couldn't understand that had Flower grinning for real.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Sid gave him a sour look and flipped him off, then pushed himself upright and headed off to the kitchen. Flower huffed a laugh, looking tired but now faintly gleeful. "I think I broke him. He cried so hard, his voice is gone. Like a baby," Flower said, and Geno rolled his eyes.

"Changed my mind, no one miss you, you nothing but trouble," Geno said, dry. Flower flipped him off, grinning now, but his inevitable retort was lost when Sid stomped back in with coffee for all three of them and a throat lozenge for himself.

The sun was just barely coming up when Geno locked the door behind them. Flower got into his car and waved through his frost-rimmed windshield as he pulled out. Sid slung their bags into the backseat of his SUV and sucked on his lozenge as Geno climbed in.

"It be okay," Geno said while Sid waited for their windshield to thaw. "He miss playing, you know that. This make him happy, you know. He'll miss us, but he'll be happy, things be good in Vegas."

"I know," Sid said, and turned up the heater. The windshield was almost clear, and he put the car in gear. "But it doesn't help." 

**June**

A driver from the Pens dropped them off at their house after the flight home. Geno was too hungover to drive, and Sid was somehow sort of still drunk from a few bottles of champagne that had survived the locker room only to be sacrificed on the plane. Sid managed to keep it together for the drive, but Geno could feel his vibrating energy, the manic beat of his pulse throbbing in the thin skin of his throat. 

The driver pulled out of the driveway and the gate started sliding closed, and Sid went to his knees right there on the front porch.

"Sid," Geno choked out, shocked and turned on, and Sid grinned up at him, flushed and pupils dilated, pushing Geno's hips back against the front door with unyielding pressure. Geno went from exhausted to hard faster than he'd thought possible, aching with sudden heat as Sid leaned in and ran his teeth over Geno's zipper, drawing his mouth down over the bulge. 

"We won," Sid said, and let go of Geno's hip to pull down his zipper. "We fucking won. Again."

"We won," Geno agreed, and touched Sid's face, his mouth, his gorgeous cheekbones, the muscles on the side of his neck. Sid pulled Geno's cock out fast and a little rough, like he couldn't bear to wait, and Geno hung onto the doorknob and tried not to fall over as Sid bent his head and took him in.

Sid didn't play games, didn't do anything but suck with hard steady pressure while he pinned Geno to the door. His mouth was hot and wet and his skin was tacky with sweat. He smelled like champagne, and his tongue was making Geno see stars. It was broad daylight and Sidney Crosby was blowing him against his front door and Geno was going out of his head, he was losing it, Sid didn't _need_ to play games because this was doing it for him so hard he couldn't even think straight.

Sid tightened his grip on Geno's hips and pushed forward, lips brushing the skin of Geno's pelvis, wet and fleeting. Geno threw his head back and came, trembling, unable to breathe for a second.

Sid pulled off and let go of his hips, nipped at Geno's hipbone and tucked his cock back into his pants. When he climbed to his feet, he was hard himself, and his eyes were bright.

"You best," Geno panted, and Sid smiled, leaned in for a kiss. Geno let himself slump against the door, and savored the taste of his come in Sid's mouth, Sid's teeth closing on his lower lip, Sid's hands warm on his sides, Sid's back smooth and firm under his fingers. The sun was warm and they'd just won the Cup and Geno felt so good, so good. Everything was perfect.

Well, almost.

"Fuck me," he said, and Sid grinned against his mouth, kissing him again.

"I think that can be arranged," he said, stepping back, moving just a little loosely from the champagne on the flight. His mouth was red and puffy and Geno wanted him so badly, wanted to feel like this forever. 

"Inside, though," he said firmly, and turned to unlock the door while Sid laughed. It was a beautiful sound, nothing but happy, and it made Geno feel warm all the way down to his toes in a way unrelated to the way his knees still felt weak.

Forever didn't really sound like long enough.

Fin


End file.
